Taking on Water
by half agony and hope
Summary: "He'd expected their relationship to remain intact despite his actions the last several months. He certainly had not expected to feel tortured every time he and Lisbon are in the same room (and nearly as often when they aren't), like he's wading through a sea of glass shards that prick his skin with every movement. He's surprised he hasn't bled out by now." Post The Crimson Hat.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I promise I will get back to updating "Chaos Theory" soon, but I needed to take a short break from that multichapter. And that brings me to this oneshot, which may or may not become a multichapter of its own (for now it's complete though). Warnings for bad language.**

 **Lyrics are from "Rainy Season" by Hunter Hayes.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Say that you love me, even if it's not true  
And say that this storm is just passing through._

 _We're taking on water_  
 _And drop after drop we're destroying this house_  
 _And each other._ _  
_

* * *

The heat rolls in, wave after wave. It is scorching even by Sacramento standards.

And as the mercury rises, so does the number of reported homicides. In a way, this smooths Jane's transition back from Vegas – the team cannot afford to harbor ill will toward him if they want to keep up with the unreasonable case load. But between five open cases and interrogating Lorelei on the side, Jane has had little time to process much of anything, and he assumes the same can be said for Lisbon.

His former partner is cordial to him now at best, hesitant and distrusting at worst. He supposes he deserves this and is thankful he has not received worse.

It's stupid of him, but he'd expected their relationship to remain intact despite his actions over the past several months. Or, at the very least, he hadn't expected to feel much of anything after returning to find the relationship shattered.

He certainly had _not_ expected to feel tortured every time he and Lisbon are in the same room (and nearly as often when they aren't), like he's wading through a sea of glass shards that prick his skin with every movement.

He's surprised he hasn't bled out by now.

* * *

Every day for over six months, Lisbon had prayed for Jane to be returned to her. She asked for other things as well, namely that he would be safe, but mostly she simply wanted to see him again, to have him back with her.

She hates that she almost wishes her prayer had not been answered. At least, not in the way it actually was.

* * *

Every night as he lies in his dingy, derelict motel room, the windows open in hopes of catching a gust of nonexistent breeze, Jane attempts to piece together a speech for her, to begin to fix all that he has screwed up.

But the words never materialize, and eventually he realizes he's trying to fit together pieces that might as well have originated from different puzzles. He could force the pieces together, but they would never form a coherent picture.

He rolls over onto his stomach, punching his pillow and cursing every choice he's ever made.

* * *

Once some time has passed since the day everything fell apart, Lisbon becomes angry.

Not at the way Jane's plan played out. No, she'd known that plan was a disaster the moment he'd explained it to her.

Rather, she is angry at herself.

She is angry that she began to hope after hearing two little words from him. And she is angrier still at her reaction to hearing him take back those two words, feeling heartbreak like she is seventeen again.

But he had his chance to explain himself. He chose not to.

And Lisbon feels herself falling out of love with him with every passing day.

* * *

It's past midnight.

Rather than being pitch-dark outside, the air and sky almost glow a hazy yellow, and Jane wonders if this signals an approaching storm.

It looks like the end of the heat wave is near.

Unable to sleep, Jane closes the door to his motel room behind him as he leaves, not bothering to lock it. He drives across the city on deserted streets, wondering when Sacramento started to feel foreign to him.

Without thinking about it, without planning it, he ends up at the CBI, and he climbs the stairs to his attic slowly, feeling beads of sweat roll down his spine and pool on his lower back. He rolls back the door, slips in, and then moves the door back into place, turning around as he does so.

He freezes.

The attic is already occupied.

* * *

Lisbon leans against the doorframe leading from the attic to the roof, looking out across the city. She's been watching, captivated, for over an hour as the storm moves toward her through the haze.

Several small streaks of lightning dart across the sky, followed a few seconds later by a gentle rumble of thunder.

She hears the groan of the floorboards behind her and whips around, her hand automatically reaching for the space on her hip usually occupied by the weapon she'd left at her desk.

Jane is standing in front of her, sans suit coat, his gaze as stormy as the weather outside.

"Lisbon," he whispers. She nearly crumbles at his tone. It's been over seven months since he's said her name with such warmth. "What are you doing here?"

She has about a million answers to that question.

 _I missed you._

 _I didn't want to go home._

 _I hoped you'd be here._

But instead, she says, "I wanted to watch the storm."

"You haven't seen enough of that lately?"

She knows by the wince that accompanies these words that Jane immediately regrets them, but when he opens his mouth to apologize, she cuts him off.

"And whose fault is that?" she asks sharply, turning again and moving through the doorframe to head to the roof. She can tell by the way the wind grabs her hair that the storm is close, but somehow she feels safer out here than inside with _him._

About a minute later, however, she feels Jane come to stand just behind her at her shoulder.

"Mine," he says simply, in answer to her question.

She nods.

Another minute passes before he speaks again.

"I fucked up," he admits, and she raises an eyebrow, startled. Even while working the Red John case, she's never heard Jane swear.

She nods again. "Yeah."

"I want to fix it."

She closes her eyes. "I want you to as well."

His voice drops in volume. "I don't know how."

"Me neither."

But she reaches behind her to touch her hand to his, and she feels him move toward her a fraction of a step.

He sighs, and she can feel his breath against her neck. "How about we make our way through your list of grievances one by one?"

Lisbon smirks. "Starting with the least or most severe?"

He almost chuckles. "Least. Let's work up to most."

"You let Lorelei blindside me."

"I should have told you about my relationship with her." His response is immediate, so she knows that _he_ knows what she means without need for elaboration.

"Why didn't you?"

Lisbon hears his breath hitch, and it takes a while before he gives a response. "I knew it would cause you pain."

She can't help the slight _tsk_ that escapes her lips at this. "It's none of my business who you sleep with, Jane. In fact, you are at perfect liberty to sleep with whomever you like."

"Maybe so," he says softly. "But it still hurt you, didn't it?"

She can't bring herself to answer out loud, so she gives an infinitesimally small nod.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he says.

"You don't need to apologize for that," she says. "I understand why you did what you did. My feelings don't matter."

"Then I'm sorry I wasn't the one to tell you," Jane says unsteadily. "I'm sorry you had to find out from her. And for the record, your feelings do matter to me. They made that particular aspect of the con much more difficult."

Lisbon looks at him over her shoulder. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Jane moves her hair away from the side of her neck and then brushes his knuckles against her skin. She feels him shake.

"Because I'm much more composed when I lie." He takes a breath. "Grievance number two?"

Another boom of thunder echoes around them, this one louder than the last, and Lisbon waits for it to fade before she speaks. "You didn't let me in on your plan – and I worried unnecessarily for six months."

"Would you believe me if I said it was for your own safety?"

"No."

Jane sighs. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"How many times have I told you that I can look out for myself?" Her tone is aggressive, angry.

"And how many times have I told you that I will always save you when I can? I'm not going to put you through unnecessary risk, Lisbon!"

She closes her eyes tightly, and she feels him reach out for her hand again. He doesn't speak; instead, he lets her work through this on her own. And after a few minutes, she turns around to face him, opening her eyes as she does so.

"I guess I can see where you're coming from," she says slowly. "If keeping my family out of the loop was the only way to protect them, I'd do the same. But I disagree with you regarding the premise that I needed protection in the first place."

"Oh, you did," says Jane. "In fact, you _still_ do. Which brings us to grievance number three."

Her brow furrows. "I don't understand."

"What is your third grievance, Lisbon?"

She's not sure whether to look sad or angry, so she settles for a little of both. "You lied about forgetting that you said you loved me."

He nods. "I was trying to protect you, Lisbon."

She throws his hand off hers. "How the hell does that protect me? As far as I can tell, it does the opposite."

"I wasn't lying when I told you I was hyped up. I was…I wasn't thinking clearly. If I had been, I wouldn't have told you I loved you at all—because me loving you puts you in danger."

She's stunned.

"So," she begins, "you're _not_ taking it back?"

"It would be safer for you if I did," he admits. "But I can't. I _won't_."

"'Safer,'" she repeats softly. "What are you worried about? What do you think is going to happen to me?"

"Teresa," Jane says. "Red John killed the last woman I was in love with."

She shivers, and the wind sings in the silence.

"Oh."

He almost smirks. "Yeah. 'Oh.'" His eyes become darker, and a flash of lightning is reflected in them. "So, please, do me a favor and forget we ever had this conversation, alright?"

" _What?_ " she nearly shrieks. "Jane, that's not for you to decide!"

His voice is unrelenting. "I will do everything possible in my power to keep you safe. If that means pushing you away despite the feelings I actually have for you, so be it."

Without warning, the sky breaks open above them. Jane reaches for Lisbon immediately, shielding her from the worst of the downpour, and they hurry inside to the attic, where they struggle to hear each other over the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

They look at each other for a good thirty seconds. Lisbon takes in his unruly curls, made even more so by the rain, and calculates her best option.

"So you won't allow us to acknowledge...whatever _this_ is...until after Red John is dead?"

He nods tightly

"And nothing I can do will convince you otherwise, will it?" she asks.

The look he gives her is heartbreaking. "No."

She feels her entire body shake, from both the chill of the rain and the situation. "What if one of us dies before that time comes?"

He visibly blanches but recovers quickly. "I accept that possibility. But even if that were to happen, you or I – whomever remains – would know that we did all we could to keep the other safe."

"But wouldn't it be better to have some time together – to be genuinely happy – even if that happiness is cut short?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Lisbon."

Lisbon opens her mouth to respond, then promptly shuts it again without saying a word.

Jane has just admitted that he loves her, that he won't take it back this time. And in the next breath, he's told her they cannot be together. At least in the foreseeable future. The irony is exquisitely agonizing, and she's having difficult wrapping her mind around the myriad of developments which have occurred over the last twenty minutes.

She feels like she has to fight for the future which never will be.

"Can't we compromise on this?" she asks weakly.

"It's kind of an all or nothing deal, Lisbon," Jane says, his voice gentle yet firm.

She nods, agreeing with him. Then she decides to switch tactics. "When he's dead…"

"As soon as he's dead, I will head straight to you and beg you to give us a shot."

Lisbon has to smile at this. "Definitely not the words I expected to hear when I imagined a man declaring himself to me."

"We're hardly a conventional couple," Jane agrees.

She blinks. "Is that what we are?"

He backtracks. "No," he says. "I misspoke. We are…we are _partners_. Aren't we?"

The last two words sound so small, especially over the pounding of the rain over their heads, that Lisbon steps forward and wraps her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

"I haven't been so sure these past several months. But I'd like to be your partner again."

His arms come up to rest lightly on her shoulders and upper back, and she immortalizes this feeling, storing it in her own memory palace.

She's not sure he'll ever be able to hold her like this again.

"Me, too," he whispers.

His arms tighten around her then loosen, and he presses his lips to her forehead.

He steps back, and she immediately feels an overwhelming sense of bereavement.

"I need you to forget this ever happened," Jane says.

She wants to cry but won't allow herself to. "Not likely."

Jane sighs. "There's no negotiating with you, is there?"

"Funny. I could say the same about you."

"Touché," he admits. "Well, if you're not going to forget this, then do me a favor and remember it every time I have to push you away in the future. At least you'll understand now why I have to do it."

"I don't think that will make it any less painful."

"I'm sorry." For the first time since she's known him, it sounds like he means it.

"I know."

The sound of the rain suddenly amplifies, and Jane motions for Lisbon to step away from the glass windows. She does so, letting him guide her with a hand on her lower back, and they move to the sliding door together to head back downstairs.

Lisbon hesitates, her fingers reaching for the handle. "I feel like I'm saying goodbye to you," she murmurs. _These parts of us may never meet again._

"I'll be right beside you, Lisbon. I'm not leaving."

She hates how timid her voice sounds when she responds. "Promise?"

Jane's eyes cloud over, and she knows he's seriously considering something.

"We don't talk about this conversation," he says eventually, his voice less than a whisper, and Lisbon cannot even be sure what he's saying over the sounds of the rain. "We don't acknowledge it ever happened. Except…except here. In this room. When we need to seek refuge, we come here."

And her heart lifts.

Because Jane is giving her a safe house, a shelter.

A place where, together, they will wait out the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm expanding this oneshot into a series, though be warned that it definitely won't be updated regularly. At the moment, I'm planning to write chapters that serve as tags for a few of the more important episodes at the beginning of season five, but we'll see how far I stray from that plan. At any rate, this chapter is a tag for the season five premiere, taking place in the same universe as the conversation from the previous chapter. Hope you like it!**

 **Lyrics belong to The Girl and the Dreamcatcher.**

* * *

 _I want to be the blood that's in your veins._

* * *

He appears at her shoulder as she's taking down the photographs from the evidence board. She's preoccupied, however, and doesn't notice his presence until he tugs on the sleeve of her jacket.

"Lisbon," he murmurs.

She shrugs him off. "Not now, Jane."

He sighs. "Lisbon, please."

He knows she'll give in precisely a second before she does. Her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and she pivots a quarter-turn. "What is it?" she asks warily.

Jane takes a moment to read her, noticing immediately that she is a mix of emotions, desperation and despair the most obvious. She'd done a better job of hiding these emotions the past week, and if he's being honest with himself, he'd been afraid to look too closely, knowing exactly what he'd find.

He's failed in his promise to protect her. And worse still, he himself had been the one to do her harm.

"Follow me," he says quietly, gesturing with his head away from the bullpen. He's not sure why he's keeping his voice so low – headquarters has been empty for hours. Besides the two of them, that is.

Jade eyes meet sea green, and she nods. He moves away from the board, relieved when he feels her fall into step beside him. They climb the stairs to the attic together, moving in sync, and Jane takes a few quick steps to reach the door before she does. He slides it open for her, ushering her inside. Lisbon stops in the middle of the room, and Jane reaches out to her, grabbing her hand. He tries to ignore the pain he feels erupt in every cell of his body when her fingers refuse to twine with his; instead, her hand is limp in his. But she doesn't pull away, and Jane is comforted by this at least.

He draws her over to the makeshift bed. "Sit here for a few minutes, okay?" he asks, and he realizes his voice is still pleading with her. "I'll be right back."

Jane moves as quickly as possible, rushing back down the stairs and into the breakroom. He prepares a cup of tea for himself and for her, and a few minutes later he is carrying both cups to the attic.

She reaches out for the plain, off-white cup he has in his left hand, but he hands her the turquoise cup and saucer in his right. Her brow furrows, but she accepts the drink, and he moves to slide the door shut behind them before sitting down next to her.

Words tumble around in his head, but every time he thinks he knows what to say, he loses his nerve. Instead, he remains quiet, and so does she, and they sip their tea together in silence.

Eventually, Lisbon puts her empty teacup down on its saucer. Her eyes implore him to reach out to her. So he tries.

"You're upset," he says.

Lisbon has the grace not to deny this. "I've been thinking a lot about, well, _everything_ since you returned."

Jane looks up, focusing on a particular array of freckles on her neck.

"'Meaning of life' kind of stuff?"

She looks at him wistfully. "If only it were that simple."

He has absolutely no idea how to respond to this, so he's grateful when she continues.

"I, um…I can't stop thinking about what you said to me earlier this week. 'I would ask her to marry me if I thought she'd buy it. I was playing her.' I think those were your exact words." She looks away. "Were you talking about Lorelei, or were you talking about me?"

Jane fumbles with the teacup in his hands, and it clatters against the saucer. He grabs both and sets them aside before turning to Lisbon again. "You think I'm playing you," he says.

Lisbon glances at him before looking back down into her empty teacup, now perched on her lap. "We both know you use me, Jane. You're only here to get to Red John. I just…I had just hoped that in spite of that, this thing we have – _whatever_ the hell it is – was real. Guess that was asking a bit too much of you, huh?"

She doesn't sound angry, just resigned, and somehow this makes the situation about a hundred times more excruciating.

"Lisbon," he breathes. "How could you think – "

She cuts him off. "How could I think that?" she asks, her disbelief evident. "Jane, it's obvious that Lorelei and I are both stepping stones on your disillusioned quest to take down Red John. You'll tell her whatever you need to in order to earn her trust. What's stopping you from doing the same with me?" She grabs her teacup and saucer, stands up, and sets them on the desk behind her before whirling around to face Jane again. "You know how I feel about you. I wouldn't put it past you to use that to your advantage. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what you've done. It's what you've been doing for years."

Jane stands up and takes a step forward. "Lisbon, I promised you right here, in this very room – "

She waves him off. "I learned the hard way to treat your promises as mere pretty words, Jane. Because they're nothing more than that."

He gapes at her.

"You're manipulative and controlling – and damn it, Jane, sometimes you scare me. You go so far sometimes. I worry I won't be able to pull you back."

His mind is finally catching up to his emotions. "What else?" he says. "You've obviously been dying to get this out for a while."

He's terrified of what she'll say next, but he has to hear it. She doesn't need any more encouragement.

"You start fights for amusement and then leave my team to deal with the aftermath. You promised to break the mistress of a serial killer out of jail if she'd lead you to said serial killer. _You buried a man alive to help set up your con._ " When Lisbon looks up at him, he swears he's never been able to see so deeply into her soul. And suddenly he wishes he weren't able to – because he knows what she's going to say before she says it. "God, Jane, you're a monster."

He looks away, thinking he's figured out what has gotten her so worked up. "But that's not what's freaking you out, is it?" He forces himself to meet her eyes again. He takes a step closer. "That's not your real concern. I'm a monster. Fine. Whatever. What's terrifying you is that you've fallen in love with me despite all that. Because what, then, does that say about you?"

She doesn't deny it, and Jane thinks his heart would break if there were any pieces left intact.

Jane sighs, closing the last of the distance between them, and he gathers her into his arms. After a second, she relaxes against him.

"I can't give you more than pretty words right now, Lisbon," he admits, whispering into her ear. "Obviously I hope you believe them, but I can see why you wouldn't." He swallows. "I meant everything I said to you here that night. I won't ever lie to you here. In that vein, I feel like I have to tell you that, uh…things won't be getting better any time soon. In fact, they'll probably get a lot worse. I know it's not what you want to hear, but…"

Lisbon shifts slightly, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. "I just…I miss you. The old you."

"I can't promise he'll be back."

"I know."

He holds her tighter.

Then she slips away.

"I should go," she says. He nods.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Tomorrow," she confirms.

Just as she's sliding the door closed behind her, he speaks again. "Lisbon?"

She pauses, the door halfway closed. "Yes?"

Jane crosses the floor and steps in front of her, standing just beyond the door. "You see the good in everyone," he says. "Even when the good is obliterated into thousands of shards. That's what your choice says about you."

She meets his eye for the final time, obviously weighing his words.

"I hope you're right," she whispers finally, and she slides the door shut between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for sticking with this story despite the sporadic updates. More to come.**

* * *

He'd expected the belladonna to make its way into his system rather quickly – after all, it had the first time. What he hadn't expected is the guilt that accompanies the high.

If the belladonna doesn't kill him this time, he knows Lisbon will.

He stands up, downing the rest of the tea. Setting down the cup, he steps to the door to the roof and leans against the doorframe, raising his eyes to the ebony sky.

A minute – or possibly several – passes, and he pivots, making to turn back into his attic. Jane freezes, mentally moving from room to room in his memory palace, wondering why the scene in front of him appears unfamiliar.

He's not in his attic any longer, of that at least he is sure. Rather, he appears to be in a modest living room, furnished with gray couches and burgundy throw pillows. It's simple yet elegant, a style of which he approves, but he doesn't recognize it. He turns again, noticing a similar ebony sky through the large windows to his right. Jane steels himself. Then he makes his way through the living room, weaving around the furniture by the dim light of the moon.

The house is mostly dark and eerily quiet, and Jane wonders if its inhabitants are sleeping upstairs. He finds himself suddenly in the kitchen, and he flips on the nearest light switch, not wanting to risk further navigation in the dark. The kitchen is a bit more ornate than the living room, and Jane is immediately drawn to the kettle sitting on the stove. There's a tin of teabags adjacent to the stove, and Jane grins as he rifles through them. Whoever lives here, he thinks, has good taste.

His attention is suddenly caught by a photograph on the refrigerator. As he nears the fridge, however, he notices that he isn't completely correct – it's an ultrasound, not a photograph. He smiles slightly, thinking of Charlotte.

And of Angela.

Jane reaches out, brushing a finger over the ultrasound, memories coming and going more quickly than he can follow. His eyes finally register a name on the edge of the ultrasound, and he is brought up short yet again.

 _Lisbon, Teresa._

Jane's eyes narrow. Lisbon? Pregnant? Her ultrasound displayed on the fridge in some random home?

He blinks. "Damn strong tea," he says, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

Perhaps his hallucination has landed him in an alternate universe in which he and Lisbon never met? Did she get to live out her happily ever after in this universe? He finds this comforting – that somewhere, in some universe, Lisbon is happy.

He wishes it could have been that way in _his_ universe.

"Jane?"

He whirls around, startled and frantic, with no idea how to explain his presence.

As it turns out, he doesn't need to.

He meets Lisbon's brilliant gaze. She's wearing an oversized jersey that doesn't quite hide the small swelling of her abdomen, and she looks exhausted. "What are you doing up? I thought you said you were going to come to bed hours ago."

Jane just gapes at her, trying to process the implications of this statement. As always, Lisbon waits patiently for him.

Jane pulls himself together and gestures to the ultrasound. "Sorry," he says weakly. "It's just...it's amazing, isn't it? This life you're carrying." Not technically a lie, he thinks.

His throat constricts then with more powerful emotions than he can remember feeling in over a decade. Lisbon's eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles at him, and Jane tries to hide his astonishment. He's never seen that particular smile from her before. He was right – in this universe, wherever they are, she is truly, unequivocally happy.

It occurs to him then that maybe this _is_ his universe after all.

She moves across the kitchen and reaches for him, pulling him against her and wrapping him in her arms. " _I love you_ ," she whispers, holding him.

Jane hesitates slightly before reaching up to return the hug, and his hand automatically cradles her head. He kisses her temple.

"Come to bed?" asks Lisbon.

Jane nods.

Five minutes later, after they've climbed into under the covers, Lisbon reaches for his hand and places it on her stomach. They fall asleep like that, her hands covering his, their fingers intertwined.

* * *

He blinks several times, but his eyes don't seem to want to focus.

" _You bastard._ "

He can make out Lisbon's voice and notices her sharp tone. He immediately winces. _Shit._

"Damn it, Jane. I can't believe you put me through that again."

Jane rubs at his eyes, and this seems to help – he can at least make out Lisbon's outline now. "I wanted to see her."

"Charlotte's gone, Jane. Tripping won't bring her back."

The hospital room begins to come into focus, as does Lisbon. Jane winces again; yes, she is _furious._ Time for damage control.

"I wanted to see my wife," he admits, letting his voice break. "Just one more time."

Lisbon's gaze softens. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. "It wasn't her, Jane. Whoever you saw, it wasn't her."

Jane nods. "I didn't see her," he says, his voice low. "Or Charlotte."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow. "What _did_ you see?"

But she is already fading from view, and he stops trying to fight being pulled under.

* * *

He awakens abruptly, and the sensation is like breaking the surface of frigid water after nearly drowning. His eyes flash open and take in the pale gold of the late afternoon light dancing across the dusty floor. Finally, he thinks, he is back in familiar territory. His makeshift bed. His attic.

Jane glances to his side. As he almost has come to expect, Lisbon is beside him, asleep, sitting in his chair. She leans forward so that her head rests on her arms, which in turn rest on Jane's mattress. He winces. The position can't be comfortable.

He reaches out, brushing her dark hair away from her face, and she stirs. "Hey," he croaks.

Lisbon blinks several times and straightens. "Are you back?" she asks warily.

Jane nods. "Yes," he says. "For good."

Her eyes turn simultaneously melancholy and angry. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"How long was I out?"

"We made it to the ER around nine last night. They released you this morning. It's late afternoon sometime."

"You didn't have to stay with me."

"Of course I did."

Jane turns, looking up at the ceiling. He spots a particularly intricate cobweb that catches his attention. "Thank you," he whispers.

Lisbon doesn't answer right away, and he knows she's choosing her words carefully. "You…you weren't trying to kill yourself, were you?"

"If I wanted myself dead, there are much more efficient ways to do it." He still looks determinedly at the ceiling, following the path of a spider. "Plus, I'd make sure you didn't have to find my body."

He hears her sigh. "Is that supposed to reassure me?"

Jane turns back to her. "Yes," he says simply.

A few seconds pass, and Jane hears a car alarm go off in the distance.

"You were right," he says. "Regarding what you said in the hospital. Belladonna doesn't allow me to see my daughter or my wife. Charlotte and Angela – they're not real anymore, and belladonna won't change that."

"Jane," says Lisbon gently. "What did you see? This last time."

He feels his muscles tense. "I saw something that _could_ be real."

Lisbon holds his gaze, but her eyes cloud over. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I went looking for the past," Jane says, "but that's not what I found."

Jane watches as Lisbon seems to struggle with herself over this new information. He sees the moment she decides not to deflect.

"You mean," she says, "you saw you...and me."

His silence is her confirmation.

"You saw you and me," Lisbon clarifies. "Together. At some point in the future?"

"If I could give you that future now, I would."

She nods. "I know. I know you would."

Jane takes a deep breath. "And you would say yes."

"I would."

He lets out the breath. "Which, of course, is why I can't offer."

"I know that, too."

Jane brushes his fingertips against the back of her hand. "Before, getting Red John had always been about my past. And now…"

"Now it's about our future, too."

He nods. "I'm going to fight for that future, Lisbon. I promise you."

She leans forward, brushes his curls back from his forehead, and presses her lips to his brow.


End file.
